There is a sound I make when I cry in utter despair.  I didn't know I had such a sound.  I can't describe it to you or make it on command.  I do recognize it when I make it though.  Each time I make it, in my head I think, oh yeah, there it is.  I had never made the noise until the night of my brother's car accident.  Not just, "my brother", but Sam.  The night of Sam's car accident.

It was Valentine's Day.  I was upstairs and there was a knock at the front door.  It was my Aunt Jayne.  She said very quietly as the kids all came scurrying out from their prospective holes to greet her, "Kids, get to bed now, it's late."  After they said their hellos and returned she said, "Heath, Sam's been in an accident and we need to get to the hospital, get something on." 

I dashed upstairs to where Rob was in the bathroom.  I breathlessly said, "Rob, Sam's been in an accident, I have to go."  I threw some clothes on and left as Rob was resopnding with, "He's probably fine."  I hadn't reached a true state of panic yet, it hadn't really registered.  I've never known anyone who has been in a critical or fatal car accident, so that isn't really in my realm of knowledge.  As Jayne and I got in the car, she grabbed the steering wheel and screamed.  She told me that my mom had called her from the back of a police car.  It was then that I felt my heart go cold, my mind freeze up and images of my Sam started to go through my head.

I called my mom and she was still on the way in the police car.  I asked her, "How is Sam?"  She repeated, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."  I knew it was bad.  She said she couldn't get ahold of my sister, Becca, and I had to reach her and get her here safe.  Becca lives about an hour and a half away.  I didn't want to be the one to have to tell her.  I tried her phone and she didn't answer to I decided to try and call her landlords.  My friend, Staci, from work knows their number, so I called the number under Stacy on my phone.  It was the wrong one, this was another Stacy from work.  I explained that Sam had been in a bad car accident and I needed a number from the other Staci and she said that she'd take care of it. 

She called me back within five minutes with the number and to tell me she had gotten me a sub for the next day.  Oh yeah, I forgot, tomorrow is Tuesday, I work...I am a teacher and right now I don't care.  I called Bec's landlords and they didn't answer.  I then called the police and told them the story that I needed to reach my sister and where she lived.  They said they would get ahold of her.  I left that to them.  Within two minutes Bec called me.  My mom had reached her after all.  She asked me what I knew and I told her that I knew nothing.  

I called my mom again and she said that they didn't know if Sam was going to survive the trip to the hospital.  This is unfathomable.  This is Sam of the frogs, Sam of the forts, Sam of my summers.  This is Sam, larger than life.  My little brother, my best friend, the one who chooses me over others.  This can't be happening.  I then called my husband Rob and told him that he needed to get a way to the hospirtal without the kids, that it is very serious.  The rest of the way there was spent with my Aunt screaming and desperatly racing around cars.

Before Jayne even stopped the car at the Emergency room I jumped out without any shoes and ran in with her yelling behind me, "Heath, wait!"  I couldn't wait, I had to get to Sam.  I got inside and said, "My brother has been in a bad accident, his name is Sam Howell."  They asked me to wait but I cut through the triage area.  By then Jayne had caught up to me.  They put us in a room and we immediatly  left to find him.  They decided to just lead us to him. 

I found my dad in a red sweatshirt, sitting in a chair crying.  I know that may not sound like someting amazing, but my dad doesn't cry.  He is a rock, he is stoic, he is unemotional.  He was sobbing!  I went into the room where Sam was and stood at the foot of his stretcher.  I grabbed his feet and felt glass under my hands and under my feet.  I started to brush it off as I heard my mom yell, "Get the tube in!  He's turning blue, reintibate!"  I looked up to my brother's beautiful face and sweet, kind eyes now swollen, blue tinged and lopsided. How could this be happening to Sam, the most gifted person I've ever encountered?  How can this be my baby brother? 

Standing there at the foot of Sam holding his feet and terrified is when I first made the noise, the sound I didn't know existed.  I then left the room to check on my dad and to let my Aunt Jayne go in for a moment.  I came out and there were officers all around and my dad was sitting in a chair leaning forward.  He said in a croaky, crying voice, "I love you Heath, I don't think he's going to make it."  Who was this man with the furrowed brow and the quivering chin?  This stooped aged man?  This wasn't the man I saw three days ago.  He then stood up and went into the room with Sam. 

I sat down in his place and pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged myself as some strangers tried to talk to me and rub my back.  I stood up to the man in the sheriff uniform and took his hands and said, "You don't know who this is."  He said, "Your brother."  At this point I started to pound on his chest repeating, "You don't know who this is!  This is Sam who wanted to save me!  He's brilliant.  THEY HAVE TO SAVE HIM!"  I sat back down and my dad emerged, crumbling and stooped from the room.  He came over to me and put his big, heavy hand on my shoulder.  He said, "Heath, he's gone, Sam's gone."  My noise of despair began to escalate until I was screaming.  I didn't know who was where or what was going on because my eyes were squeezed shut in utter disbelief and agony.  I was in angst. 

My mom emerged from the room where they were working on Sam because of all the commotion and said, "No, he's not, he's still with us!"  I stopped screaming but the sound of despair lingered with every sob.  My mom said they were going to take him in for surgery to his head and to find any internal bleeding.  We were to go to another waiting room.  I didn't want to let him out of my sight.  What if this was the last time I saw him alive?  Although this was an emergency, I broke though the arms of the staff of the hospirtal and through the sheriff's department staff to reach through and touch his foot once more as they rolled him off.